


asterisk

by orphan_account



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Age Difference, Anorexia, Cutting, Depression, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Sex, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kissing, M/M, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pet Names, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Rough Kissing, Self-Harm, Sloppy Makeouts, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Suicide Attempt, Undertale Saves and Resets, Whump, all those apply to sans, bc he goes thru a lot ok, by that i mean frankie is 19, i have a thing for those, idk suggest them if it needs to be tagged im kinda bad at this, oh yea there's that too, so he's adult, uhhh what else
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 22:17:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20142883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sans can feel the end coming. He's been through death enough times to know when it's on the rise, and unfortunately, it's followed him into a good timeline. As sad as it is, he can't find it in himself to care. It'll all go back eventually. It'll all mean nothing. So, he sees no problem with speeding up the process.Luckily--or perhaps unluckily--for him, someone happens to be around right when he's about to fall.(PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC! IT IS VERY IMPORTANT THAT YOU CHECK THE TAGS; THIS FIC CAN BE VERY DARK AT TIMES, ESPECIALLY AT THE BEGINNING!)





	asterisk

This was a ridiculous idea.

The thought briefly crosses his mind as Sans lies there, staring blearily up at the blue sky above him with his arms splayed out and his legs lying flat against the grass, twitching on occasion but otherwise being absolutely still. The world around him spins; colors blending and sounds drowned out by static, a tingling rushing along his spine. He lets out slow, calculated breaths, feeling weak. Tired. Sick—though that’s probably because he took pills with alcohol.

A whole bottle of pills, as a matter of fact.

He can’t wrap his head around why he did this. Why he subjected himself to such a slow and miserable way to die. There are quicker ways to go, surely—less painful ways, too. And yet, he chose pills. Pills, booze, and the afternoon sky, lying in the middle of Ebott’s forest with nobody around to help him and nobody around to find him, leaving him—

Alone. How peaceful, he thinks, to finally be alone. Away from humans; from monsters; from his family, though admittedly, they haven’t done anything wrong to him. If anything, they’ve helped—but their joy and love for the surface hurts him deeper than any help could ever reach, than any happiness could ever heal.

At least he’s finally away from the kid. That murderous brat. He still can’t believe they’ve gotten away with it; parading around in a body that doesn’t belong to them and pretending to be someone they can never be, at least never fully. No, the fact that they’ve gotten a happy ending despite what they’ve done hurts most of all.

He just wants it to be over. To finally be free…rid of all this pain, this misery. That’s all he could ever ask for.

But he knows it won’t last. Just like everything else, this will be reversed, and he’ll be back, left worse than before, remembering even more than the last, craving for something he can never have.

So, he lies there, waiting, welcoming death with open arms, the world spinning and spinning until it all starts to go dark…

The last thing he sees is a face hovering over his before he sinks into darkness.

He floats in an endless sea of grey, suspended mid-air, unsure of what way is up and what way is down. A gentle, repetitive hum pulsates throughout the strange place he’s in, the rhythm almost enough to make him fall asleep. There is no one else. There is only him, the humming, the grey and a creeping headache, all of which threaten to send him spiraling.

YOU ARE EARLY, SANS.

A voice speaks around him, scolding, stern but loving all at once. He feels a presence but cannot see it, no matter how hard he looks.

I WAS NOT EXPECTING YOU FOR SOME TIME STILL. YOUR READINGS SUGGESTED YOU WOULD NOT DUST FOR ANOTHER FEW MONTHS.

…SURELY, THIS WAS NOT OF YOUR OWN DOING?

Sans says nothing. He has nothing left to say.

A sigh. Hands caress his skull, and he feels tears slip down his face, a strange sense of familiarity washing over him.

YOU ARE NOT DONE YET, BROTHER. THERE IS STILL SO MUCH LEFT TO DO.

GO BACK, NOW.

DO NOT DISAPPOINT ME.

And he slips back into the light, reaching out for someone he can’t remember.

When he opens his eyes again, he finds himself lying in a bed, a blanket draped over him and a roof over his head. Crickets chirp outside, moonlight pouring in from the open window, a gentle breeze blowing back the ripped curtains.

With a groan, Sans sits up, hand pressed against his hammering forehead. God, what a mistake, he thinks, a low hiss slipping through his clenched teeth. Never doing that again.

His stomach flips, and half of him wonders if he’s going to throw up. The other half wants to.

He takes note of the open window and pauses, lowering his hand. He studies it, eyes narrowing, before taking in the rest of the room, eye-lights shrinking.

The place looks rundown—more so than any of the places in the Ruins. The floor is barely holding it together, the roof looks sunken, patches missing from both and leaving holes and broken boards lying about. Few belongings are scattered around the room, and what is left looks to be abandoned long ago, covered in moss and mold.

The door to the room is closed.

Sighing, Sans throws off the covers—fresh, he notes, confusing him further—and stumbles over to the window, using the wall as support.

Trees stretch on for as far as the eye can see, nothing but a rusted, broken swing-set and an old stick path catching his attention.

Sans frowns, taking a step back. Still in the woods…

“Gee, you sure have a death wish, don’t ya, bud?”

Sans flinches away from the window, whipping around.

Someone’s standing in the doorway to the bedroom.

**Author's Note:**

> Updates Wednesdays!


End file.
